


Fairy Rings (and why going into them is a bad idea)

by LeonisRest



Category: No Fandom
Genre: It's porn disguised as a poem, Listen I have no idea what I'm doing, M/M, NSFW, Other, Poetry, What gender is Even A Fae
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 18:33:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12348273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeonisRest/pseuds/LeonisRest
Summary: Your mother always told you : do not go to the fairy hill childbut now you did. And so here you are.





	Fairy Rings (and why going into them is a bad idea)

**Author's Note:**

> I need to finish this week's bravery chapter but godfuckingdammit it's hard. So I'm publishing an old poem from a year or so ago? Which was started by that One Tumblr Post on how if you gave a Faerie fellatio, did it mean you had to stay Underhill?  
> Enjoy!

Your mother always told you : do not go to the fairy hill child

For they will steal you away in the dead of night.

Keep you to them, away from everyone, and when you go back

Nobody and nothing is as it was.

 

You scoffed and walked away every time.

You thought : « Fairytales ! Fairies do not exist, and they certainly won’t steal ME »

(and if you were to sprinkle a bit of salt behind your left shoulder well… it’s no one’s business but your own.)

 

And one day you managed to walk into a fairy ring.

Maybe were you tired ? Head in the clouds and feet walking where the fate wanted.

Maybe it was the fair people.

It wouldn’t be the first time they tricked a human for their own pleasure.

 

And now you are Underhill.

Among the Fair people.

You dare not name them, for you know that to speak their name is to give them power.

You remember what your mother always told you.

 

« Do not give your name » and so you didn’t.

When they asked you : « What do I call you, little human ? »

You answered : « I could be called Albe. »

They smile, and the teeth they show are terrifying.

« White ? It does suit you well dove. »

 

Your host, the one that went and got you out of the path of the fairy ring is the one that is the most interesting.

You observe him, the crow mask and the feathers braided in dark hair, the skin that balances between deep sea and dark fire.

You wonder what is beneath that bone mask.

 

but.

 

Your mother said : « Do not look under their masks. »

And so, despite the burning curiosity, you didn’t.

 

They steal your shoes, and grow your hair to braid them.

They give you jewels only to rip them away after.

You want to scream and cry and rage at the absurdity of their actions.

 

but.

 

She said : « Be polite to the Fair people. »

And so, despite the anger and the fear in your stomach, you smile prettily and give honeyed words.

 

She said : « Do not look too closely at their eyes. »

And you obey because their eyes, wide and dark, sometimes reflect things that should never be seen.

 

You never eat anything.

Not because you remembered something from your mother’s advice, but because when you seem to do just that, they look at you with sharp intent.

You feel like being observed by vultures.

It is not a nice feeling, you decide while putting back the grapes on the floating tables.

 

(you do not mention the floating heads in glasses, the hand cut still grasping at the sky or that one woman who seems to take pleasure eating an ear.

If you do not see, they can’t trap you)

 

Their hands are what attracts your attention the most.

Amidst all the different skins, faces, masks and colours, amidst the pastel clothes and the vivid robes, it is what keeps your attention.

(it is safer, maybe)

 

(do not stare says mother.)

 

They are all the same.

All long and elegant, spider-like in their elegance, some have long nails but most are blunted.

All of their hands give shadows similar to a nightmare.

You may wonder why, but when you ask the question to your host, the smile he gives you in return is all teeth and no humor.

 

You no longer wonder why.

 

The night is beginning to fall Underhill.

You have yet to eat or to drink.

So you ask your host - well you assume it’s a male.

He never corrected you, after all -

« What would you want in exchange for a food that will not keep me Underhill? »

 

And he asks.

« Why would you not want to stay ? You are happy here, little human. »

Do not lie, your mother said.

 

She never said to not say what others don’t want to hear. It’s called being polite, it seems to you.

You still won’t lie.

But you will shut the screams that still want to get out.

 

« I could stay. I’d rather go back home, hug my mother and see my sun sets again and again. »

And so he smiles. The smile is nicer.

Maybe a touch too much.

 

« So you wonder if I’d grant you that boon. That to sit at our table, eat our food and drink our beverage, to be hosted and granted the same and yet be authorized to go back to the human world. »

And so you bow and say that you would be honored if he could consider it.

 

The smile is sharp. The eyes are cold. And he asks you.

« If you want this boon, pleasure me. »

You could go back at this point. They probably wouldn’t say no.

They won’t let you go home if you said no.

 

And so, voice slow and clear you ask.

« How ? »

His hands are still. Too still.

Maybe that wasn’t the right question.

 

(maybe it wasn’t the right answer)

 

The smile still is too nice.

« It is not hard to guess, is it ? »

(those eyes, dark dark and full of stars are still on you. It burns.)

(why is it that the things that are the most interesting are the ones that would kill you ?)

 

Oh. You blink the surprise away.

Pleasure used to have different meanings but the fae probably means the one you are more familiar with.

 

You want to talk, say no…

(your voice stay shut in your throat and the words that burn your tongue drop away)

(those eyes are dangerous)

 

but.

But it is your only chance to go home.

It is not a comfortable thought.

(it is more exciting that it ever should have been)

 

And when he touches your lips with his fingers

(too cold too cold your mind screams)

(I yearn for this comfort says your heart)

 

he says « I could make it easy for you dearest. So easy to fall for us and to beg for our touch, for weak-minded pets to fall for glamours. I could make it so easy. »

And you say « You could. But you won’t. »

The sharp smile that shows too much teeths is right next to your cheek.

His breath is on your ear.

 

He says « It won’t ».

 

You touch him. It’s complicated, the feelings you have-

The sharp hurt of the adrenaline,

The burn in your eyes,

The hope in your chest.

 

It’s not that you aren’t attracted to him.

(you are)

(despite the too sharp smiles, the too black eyes and the too cold touch…)

(you are)

(they aren’t called the Fair Ones without reason).

 

It’s addictive you discover.

(that too cold touch is also the most heated one you ever felt)

(as always with the Fae, it’s both contradictory and not).

 

The small take of breaths when you touch him.

The way those fingers still and then twitches.

That power, no matter how small or insignificant, is addicting, especially over such a being.

 

It is addictive.

His skin is smooth, but when you look sideway, the shadow shows fangs and claws and eyes that gleam in the dark.

He tastes of milk and honey, of sea foam and embers.

 

(you want more, and a side of your brain absently notes that you should be more panicked.)

(you can’t)

 

The tension in his forearms and the grip of those hands in your hair

(too long, and braided with flowers and pearls, but you are too far gone to care now)

the whispers of his encouragement, hissed and breathed heavily

it really shouldn’t get you so high.

(it does)

 

(oh by the gods, it does)

 

Suddenly the grip is strong, far too strong

You choke a bit and he lets you up

You belatedly notice that your face is sticky

 

(his eyes are burning your face)

(you should probably care, but you don’t)

 

You want to lick your lips but something tells you it isn’t a good idea.

(he seems both disappointed and delighted)

(it should not bother you, but it does)

(and the worst is that you can’t tell whether the disappointment or the delight bother you the most)

 

« I rarely see humans so hard to trick and yet so eager to please. Would that you wanted to, I would keep you my pet »

he says and he gets you up, your face suddenly clean.

(when did you go down ? You do not remember)

 

« I, however, do always respect my word. Consider your boon granted, and come morning you will be able to go home »

 

And so the rest of the night pass Underhill.

The Fair people are not nice, and neither are they kind.

But they always respect their words.

 

(and so you dance the night away, drink and eat among them)

(it is fun and when your host come and steal you away for a few dances… well)

(it’s not like you want to refuse him)

 

(it’s not like your heart would let you)

 

And come morning, on unstable legs, you are outside of the fairy ring.

And to remember your journey Underhill

Your now long hair, braided with pearls and ribbons and feathers,

A mark on your neck,

A feather on your hand,

And the throbbing pain in your chest.

 

(a fae is always fair, and he never said he would not tempt you)

(you might one day come back, guided by your memories and your heart)

(sit in the fairy ring and wish for them to get you back)

(you hope they do, for now the human world is no longer the one you long to belong in)


End file.
